


Shades of Grey

by jedusaur



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bloodplay, Cheating, Dominant Masochism, F/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-28
Updated: 2009-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedusaur/pseuds/jedusaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Man, you really don't talk a whole lot." She eyed him critically, then grinned. "It's cool. I like it better when you scream."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of Grey

Before Faith came to Sunnydale, vampires were nothing but targets. Slaying got her horny, for sure, but the sex was always post-carnage, riding out the wave of endorphins that flooded her system every time she fought. By the time she got around to bumping uglies with whoever was handy, the vamps were all dusted and there was no more fear. Faith had always felt sort of cheated by that. The fear was the best part.

Then she wandered into this other Slayer's world, a place where interspecies relations were more complicated than mutual destruction. Werewolves went to high school, demons were reasonable sources of information, and Buffy was actually dating a vampire. All of a sudden the war between good and evil broke down into shades of grey right in front of Faith's eyes, and as it did so, new possibilities opened up. If a Slayer could have a relationship with a bloodsucker, there was no reason Faith couldn't have a little fun.

Well, maybe there were reasons not to have her fun with the particular bloodsucker to which B had laid incontrovertible claim, but Faith had never really been much for that sort of ethical dilemma crap. So long as no one found out, it was all good.

"You look like Jesus."

She was sitting against the cold stone wall, legs splayed out, barefoot, comfortable. She'd always felt more comfortable on the floor than in chairs. An open bottle of cheap vodka dangled from one hand. Her gaze was fixed on the vampire, whose pose against the opposite wall mirrored hers, but with his wrists held high by manacles.

"I mean, you don't look like how Jesus actually looked. Wasn't he supposed to be, like, black or something?" Faith took a swig from the bottle. "I mean the pose. Crucifixion. I guess that would really hurt for you, huh? What with the whole cross issue."

Angel just looked at her, waiting.

"Man, you really don't talk a whole lot." She eyed him critically, then grinned. "It's cool. I like it better when you scream." She drained the bottle and hurled it at the wall above his head. It shattered, raining shards of glass down onto him. He cringed, but barely.

Faith slapped her palms against the stone behind her and shoved herself upright with a quick, undulating motion, flashing some skin around her hips and stomach. She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, nothing fancy, no fishnets or polished leather. The dominatrix act wasn't really her style. That schtick was for creepy-ass guys who paid to be topped by someone they could pretend was exotic and powerful. Faith had no interest in creating an experience for anyone else, even if Angel did go for that sort of thing, which she doubted. She did this for herself, and herself preferred not to twist any ankles sauntering around in six-inch stilettos, thank you very much.

Faith took a few steps forward, ignoring the pain of glass digging into her bare feet. The vampire wore nothing but pants. Bits of the broken bottle gleamed from his hair, his shoulders, the crease at the top of his thighs. She leaned down and brushed him off vigorously, leaving hairline scratches that oozed tiny droplets of blood. The bleeding intrigued her, and she toyed with the scratches for a moment, deepening one with her fingernail and squeezing.

She sucked blood off her finger and knelt in front of him. "Gimme your scrunchy face," she commanded. Angel stared blankly. She matter-of-factly slapped him across the face hard, then again, clapping him on the ear the second time. He flinched away from her hand and growled like a lioness as his face morphed from human to demon in response to the attack.

Faith smiled a small, triumphant smile. "Good," she said, and straddled him, the glass on the floor cutting into her knees and the tops of her feet. She closed her eyes for a moment to let the pain engage her attention fully. When the novelty of the sensations had faded into background noise, she opened her eyes and looked directly at Angel. Without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head back, exposing her neck.

"Want it?" she asked quietly. He didn't have to ask what she meant. Slowly, reluctantly, as if he were breaking a promise, he nodded. She leaned forward to give him access, just long enough to let the sharp fangs pierce her skin, then jerked back before he could latch on and start sucking.

Blood dripped from the wound down over her collarbone and stained her shirt. His eyes hungrily tracked every movement of the crimson liquid across her skin. Faith let him look, trailing her fingers across his chest, then said, "Now. Angel face."

Again, he looked as if he had no idea what she meant. She clarified slowly, "Ditch the bumps, sweet cheeks. You want any of this, you gotta look pretty for me first."

He stared longingly for another second, then closed his eyes and relaxed until the vampire mask faded away.

"That's better," said Faith. "The fangs are handy for stabbing, but that wrinkly crap really does not do a thing for me."

"Please," he rasped, his eyes fixed on the bite mark on her neck.

Delighted, Faith tossed her hair back. "Hey, begging. I like it. Okay, listen up. I'm keeping my hand on your face. The second I feel demon nose, no more Bloody Mary. Got it?"

He shook his head. "It's a reflexive reaction to the blood. I can't help-"

"I said, got it?" she interrupted.

Another long, wistful glance at the neck wound and he nodded. "Got it."

She held a hand to his forehead and offered her neck again. Carefully, he eased forward and pressed his lips to her skin. Faith could feel him struggling to keep his face human against the influx of sensation. Finally he managed to muster enough self-control to open his lips and lap up the blood still leaking from the puncture.

Faith could feel his erection pressing against the crotch of her jeans. She waited for him to finish licking up the spilled blood and start sucking the wound itself before she started grinding down. He tensed, and his brow puckered up under her fingers. She immediately jerked her throat away from his mouth. "Told you not to do that," she admonished, but kept rocking her hips against him. His head fell back against the wall, teeth stained bright, trying to regain control of the demon despite the building friction.

Dry-humping was supposed to be a silly teenage thing. Faith could easily rearrange clothing to fuck him instead. But the truth was that she rather liked the pressure of fabric against her clit. It was working for her, and that's what mattered. She sped up the rhythm a little, saw that Angel had forced his face back to human, and let him suck again.

She'd lost enough blood to feel high now. Alcohol was a blood thinner, she dimly remembered, so maybe that vodka smoothed it out a bit for Angel. Maybe it was being transmitted to him, getting him drunk too. Hell, she didn't know how the stuff diffused or whatever. She'd have to remember to ask Willow later about the science of getting shitfaced.

The alcohol and the glass in her knees and the blood loss and the mouth on her neck and the adrenaline and the scorching image of the hot guy in chains at her mercy all finally blended together into a crescendo of pain and pleasure and confusion.

She had the presence of mind to slump away from the vampire during the aftershocks, breaking off his greedy slurps before he drained her. Then she stood up and picked bloody shards from her legs, leaving Angel still hard and gasping. It was tempting to walk away and let him stay like that, but she knew B would be around later, and she really didn't want the kind of drama that would cause, so she unlocked the manacles and let Angel jack off while she searched under the sofa for her sneakers.

As she walked home, she idly wondered if screwing a werewolf in wolf form would count as bestiality. Things had been easier before Sunnydale, when Faith staked the vampires and fucked the humans, but these shades of grey were much more interesting.


End file.
